


Dancing in the Dark

by athenril_of_kirkwall (al_fletcher)



Series: Aether Effect [4]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dancing, Dragon Age Drunk Writing Circle, Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts, F/M, Fluff, Pre-Revelations, Prompt Fic, Romance, Slow Dancing, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-03 22:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17292215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/al_fletcher/pseuds/athenril_of_kirkwall
Summary: Blackwall and Cassandra share a dance.





	Dancing in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for Blackwall/Cassandra, “Grace, Dark, Holding”

_The Winter Palace._

“Ugh,” Cassandra groaned as she stepped out onto the balcony.

“What’s the matter?”, Blackwall asked, looking out into the night sky.

“As though we have not had enough maudlin drama this evening already, I had the misfortune of walking in on our beloved Inquisitor and Solas being _sickeningly_ sentimental,” she said as she joined him on leaning on the parapet.

“Why, Lady Seeker,” he said, “you sound envious.”

Groaning again, she turned to him, unamused. “ _Ever_ with the clever comments, Blackwall. When we first met, I thought you a completely different individual.”

“Oh?”

She explained, “The perfect picture of the stolid, honour- and duty-bound Grey Warden, with perhaps the rare ironic statement. Now, as it turns out…”

“Yes?”

“…you really _are_ no better than the comedians the Inquisition seems to attract. I shudder to think what terrible foolishness Sera would have unleashed upon the collective Orlesian nobility, for example.”

“Here I thought you would have approved,” Blackwall said. “You’ve never had a kind thing to say about all this poncery and artifice, have you?”

“I suppose not. But at the expense of the Inquisition’s reputation…”

“One _could_ argue that it would simply playing the Game with different rules, such as the former Grand Duke’s affectations of gruff rejection of the whole thing.”

Rolling her eyes, Cassandra retorted, “Or one _could_ reject that for the sophistry that it is, given that I see very little diplomatic or political point to shoving an open jar of bees down a marquis’ breeches. Oh, stop smirking. As though _you’ve_ never considered it, either.”

“You see, Lady Seeker,” Blackwall said mirthfully, “you _can_ keep up with the best of us.”

“Maker help us all if I ever did. Someone like Sera, who cannot even explain one of her demented plans without breaking into laughter over her own cleverness, anyone could see a mile coming, Blackwall. Who in this age would ever expect _me_ to come up behind someone and pull their trousers to their ankles?”

Blinking, he said, “Maker’s balls, you’re right. Perhaps you _should_ corner the market on the grim and stolid types.”

“But seriously, Blackwall,” Cassandra asked, “How do you manage it?”

“Manage what, milady?”

She shifted on her foot, choosing her words carefully. “Manage to…switch between modes. Many whom I know have said that there is no difference between my public and private personas. That I present such a stark image of myself in both spheres that it is impossible to imagine any other side to my character. And yet…”

“And yet?”

Staring down at the gardens, she said, “And yet, you at first were not so different, but in your time here you have seen fit to reveal your…well, shall we say, more _spontaneous_ side to us, your companions.”

Turning himself around so that they were now both leaning away from the Winter Palace, Blackwall faced Cassandra, asking, “So, the Lady Seeker’s one weakness, the one flaw in her shield, is that she lacks _spontaneity?_ ”

She stared him coldly in the eyes. “Warden Blackwall, I _assure_ you that if I wished to seek out mockery, I would gladly subject myself to the mercies of whatever Varric has planned for me back in Skyhold.”

“No mockery, none at all,” he said gently. “Unsurprising at it may be to you, it certainly numbers low amongst many people’s evaluations of your…imposing stature.”

“Yes,” she muttered, “quite so. I know I can confess this to you given that you have proven the height of discretion, if not necessarily sombreness.”

“A secret between two, milady, is a secret broken. Shall we put your _spontaneity_ to the test, Lady Seeker?” Blackwall asked, stepping away from the parapet.

“Should I be concerned?” she retorted, suspiciously.

“Not at all.” Clearing his breath, Blackwall performed a perfect Orlesian bow, asking her, “I believe the band is playing on into the night. Lady Cassandra, may I have this dance?”

Looking hurt, she said, “So you _are_ mocking me.”

“I am not, and I apologise if I sound as though I have. I suspect that despite your total rejection of the ways of the court that you had to have learned the Cumberland Two-Step at the very least. Besides, everyone in there is so drunk that we could perform a duet of Shepherd’s Shuffles and they would declare it the new style of the Age.”

Unable – despite her best – to suppress a chortle at the image alone, Cassandra regained her composure, saying, “You may well be right. But why should _we_ dance?”

Leaning in perhaps a touch closer than strict professionalism permitted, Blackwall pressed on, saying, “Imagine it, Milady, the ball winding down to its close, its torches burning down to their embers, most of the guests retired to their quarters, just the dashing hero and his companion, or well, the spirited heroine and her partner, dancing to the gentle beat of the last song of the night right in the middle of the Winter Palace…is that not _spontaneous_?”

Exhaling sharply, she said, “You read far too many novels.”

“As, I suspect, you do too,” he replied.

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed. “Now who have you been talking to?”

“Oh, that’s not important,” Blackwall said, waving carelessly. “I doubt there is much, if any, shame, in your past, but I can well suspect that might be cause for embarrassment. Confronting that surely is a key step in developing your spontaneity?”

“Sophistry and more sophistry,” Cassandra said, stepping away from the parapet. “I shall be seeking out the author of _Swords and Shields_ with extreme prejudice when we return to Skyhold. But…you may well have a point. It is not as though there are any functionaries of importance left save our advisors in the ballroom, and I trust Rivka and Solas can keep this to themselves at any rate, assuming they can bear to pry themselves away from each other.” She extended her hand towards Blackwall, saying, “However, right that you are, it has been…a while. How well can you lead?”

Smiling, he stepped towards her, grasping her hand with his, and gently taking her by the waist. “I confess to being…a little rusty myself. Maker, this was a better idea when I was a little less sober.”

As they stepped experimentally on the balcony, slowly remembering where to place their feet around each other, Cassandra let out a little laugh, saying to Blackwall, “You lead well. Tell me, Blackwall, was this part of your training in the Orlesian Army?”

They were close enough for her to not only see, but _feel_ , the hot flush on his neck. “Ah, well, In a sense.”

“In a sense?” she asked, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

“You see, even the lowest of chevaliers in the imperial orders is expected to participate in the Game, what with the hiring of bards and throwing of balls and dances, so – mind the back-step there, Milady – Ser Lanval, freshly accoladed and promoted to command my cohort, needed to learn all of the necessary waltzes and courantes.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He…ah, paid a very fine bard to teach him all of these things, but he didn’t have enough coin to keep her around all the time. Among all his captains, I had his total confidence, so…”

Her eyes widening, Cassandra released him and took a step back, unable to keep amusement from creeping into her voice. “Are you saying the great Warden Blackwall has a history of tutoring chevaliers in the courante?”

“Let us just say that he needed a partner to recall all the steps involved in both leading up to his _cotillion_ ball and _never bring this up again_ ,” he huffed.

“My, Blackwall,” she said, “that does not seem _spontaneous_.”

“And so the tables are turned,” he replied. “What will you do with your newfound power over me, Lady Seeker?”

“Why,” Cassandra said, smiling, “I think I shall request another dance. A waltz, if you will. That at least is more personal than the _ridiculous_ skipping and hopping of a courante.”

“So you _do_ know the steps,” he said, taking her by the hand and waist again.

“Yes. Maker knows what forces you have unleashed this night, Blackwall. Dancing with you here, now, in the dark hallways of the Winter Palace, may well start me on a path to degeneracy on your level.”

“The world will tremble,” he said.

“Come,” Cassandra said, gently breaking away from him, softly leading him by the fingertips on their gloves. “Not here. I still hear the music playing in the ballroom. Shall we prove how _spontaneous_ the two of us can be?”

Slowly following her by her hand, never breaking their brief, slight, contact, Blackwall paced into the corridors leading to the ballroom which had been the site of so much drama this evening. Maker help him, he was falling in love with this woman.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: https://athenril-of-kirkwall.tumblr.com/post/181724421095


End file.
